Monday, 23 January 2017

Public privacy

If you want to understand someone, ask them to empty their bag – be it
their patent leather purse, briefcase or backpack. Or, on the likely chance
that they refuse, wait until its unattended, when you’ve been trusted to keep
an eye out while they nip to the toilet, and rummage around in secret. Turn it
upside down so you can get to know them inside out.

Find ripped receipts, those lingering reminders of money that would be
better left unspent. Lip balms that’d long been labelled lost, foreign coins,
loose pieces of spearmint gum, wrappers stained with guilt and milk chocolate
remains.

A grandmother’s ring, sachets of white sugar, a yellow crayon, a
misshapen almond, a makeup wipe stained black with last week’s mascara, a broken cigarette, a pink
highlighter missing its lid, a glasses case (with no glasses inside), an old
cinema ticket, expired vouchers, a safety pin, more sachets of white sugar, a
lighter with no fluid, a giant paperclip, another receipt, a pair of rusty
tweezers, a tampon, a mini paperclip, bills that have yet to be paid, stained
with coffee and dusted with cracker crumbs.

Search “What’s in my Bag?” on YouTube and you’ll be bombarded with about
20,700,000 results. Ten-minute long videos of the conventional wallet, water
bottle, car keys, house keys, maybe an odd lipstick or hairclip. The spotless,
censored version - an assortment that ceases to be embarrassing, but one that
also isn’t true. Devoid of unwashed socks, one that shows the fresh pack of
tissues but hides the loose used ones from view.

Make sure to be done at least a minute or two before they’re back, enough
time for you to be scrolling through your phone and for their mismatched items
to settle back into those places they’ve chosen for themselves.

For each expired bus ticket and fridge magnet is part of their everyday (bag)gage.
Private belongings that we dare to carry around in public.